Amor Vincit Omnia - Love Conquers All
by tenga
Summary: Harry was very angry at his supposed friends when they barely contacted him after he watched Cedric die and Voldemort be reborn. He confronts them on their abandonment after being tranferred to his new prison at Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer. What happens when Harry realises his anger is justified? Harry/Hermione


'Normal speech'

_Thoughts_

'_~Parseltongue~'_

In this fic, as in any other I write that has any mention of the economy of the magical world, I will be deviating from Rowling's established canon of 1 galleon = 5 pounds. The reason for this is quite simple – I find it ridiculous, or even impossible, that Harry's wand, made of Holly and a tail feather from a phoenix, would cost a mere 7 galleons, or £35. For two reasons.

One, it is unbelievable that the result of the sort of craftsmanship that must go into each item, not to mention the difficulty and cost that must go into obtaining the materials to be used (phoneix's are, after all, incredibly rare creatures, and I can't see it being easy to get a hold of a dragon's heartstring or the fur of a Griffin either) would cost a mere £35 pounds. How would Ollivander be able to run a business, when he surely makes a loss on each wand? He has a fairly small market, an estimated 40 first year students each summer, then for the rest of the year, his only customers are the few people who break their wands. He'd be lucky to make £1300 a year! I know magical people don't have to worry about things like petrol, TV licences, water and electricity bills, etc, but that seems a remarkably low income. And probably wouldn't cover the costs of making enough wands to have his entire shop full of them.

Two, it is inconceivable that the Weasleys' wouldn't be able to afford new wands. How can they earn so little that they can't afford to shell out £35 on something that should last for their child's whole life, once every few years? Taking the price of Harry's wand as standard, seven wands would cost £245. A muggle family with at least one parent in fulltime work could probably buy all seven at once. But the Weasleys, whose patriarch is the head of a government department involved in keeping the Statute of Secrecy secure, can't afford to buy seven, spread over more than 17 years? Can't believe it.

So, taking the popular fanfiction model that 1 galleon is in fact £35, 1 Sickle £10, and 1 knut £1, then it is believable both from the sense of Olivander making enough money to stay in business, but also that a family with several children to look after might not be able to afford a new one.

And that a Daily Profit, according to The Philosopher's Stone, is 1 knut. Does JK Rowling really think 10p is enough for a newspaper? How could they afford to pay their staff and upkeep costs? The magical world in Britain has a comparatively small population, so they would have to charge more, as there are less customers.

Now, to get the boring legal mumbo-jumbo over and done with, the Harry Potter franchise belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. my house belongs to the council, and I sold my soul to my best friend for a Kit-Kat in 1998.

If I owned the Potterverse, Harry wouldn't have been lumbered with a fangirl, and Hermione wouldn't have settled for the comic relief. Well, I think that was supposed to be Ron's role, but the only times I ever laughed at him were when he got injured.

Now on with the story. In a galaxy far, far away, yet remarkably similar to this one, and not all that long ago…

_**LOVE CONQUERS ALL**_

'_Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I've really got to dash,' Mrs Weasley whispered distractedly. 'There –' they had reached the second landing, '- you're the door on the right. I'll call you when it's over.'_

_And she hurried off downstairs again. –Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 4, page 60._

Harry's anger was reaching heights as yet undreamt of by science. Who did these people think they were, to treat him like a mushroom – keeping him in the dark and shovelling him just so much shit – and expect him to just take it and be grateful? _It's high time I reminded that woman that she's just my friend's mother. Well, ex-friend at this point. She has no right to dictate what I do. _

After a few moments of wondering whether he even wanted the confrontation with his 'friends' at the moment, his curiosity won out.Ron he had been half expecting another betrayal from. After the way the redheaded third of the so called Golden Trio had been so wary around him when he was outed as a parselmouth, then the abandonment after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, Harry had never given Ron his full trust again. He had steeled himself against the inevitable, and lo and behold, Ron turned traitor again.

No, it was Hermione's betrayal that both surprised and hurt Harry. He had never seen it coming. Hermione had always stood by him, always been steadfast in her support of him, even when the whole rest of the school ridiculed or feared him. Even when he hadn't deserved it. She was the only person in Hogwarts he had truly trusted. And now she had thrown that back in his face. He desperately wanted to know why.

And if he was being honest with himself, a large part of his feeling of betrayal stemmed from his budding romantic feelings towards Hermione. At the Yule Ball, he had realised that his best friend was becoming a very beautiful young woman. It was only his fear of rejection that had kept him from asking her out after that. She had been the date of a famous, international Quidditch player, would she really want to date a 14 year old boy after that?

At the start of the summer, after just a few hours of not being in her company, he realised how much he already missed her. He had made his mind up, resolved to ask her to be his girlfriend the moment he saw her again. But days and then weeks had passed with minimal contact from her. When she did write, she made no effort to disguise the fact she was hiding things from him. The only thing he knew was that she and Ron were together. Without him. His resolve had quickly turned to worry that the reason that she wasn't writing was that she was too busy being Ron's girlfriend. It wasn't long before his despairing jealousy became anger at the apparent abandonment.

Harry sighed, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was no use standing out on the landing thinking about it. He just had to get it over with. Like drinking one of Pompfrey's potions. Striding across to the door Mrs Weasley had indicated, he took a deep breath to steel himself, reached out for the door handle, _who makes a snake's head door handle?, _and opened the door.

He caught a brief glimpse of a gloomy, high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room, before he heard a rather Hedwig-like squawk, and a heartbeat later, a bushy-haired missile impacted against his chest.

Hermione had thrown herself at him with such force it nearly knocked him over, and was hugging him so tightly he could have sworn he heard his ribs creak under the strain.

Ron was still sitting on one of the beds, looking a bit uncomfortable with the affection Hermione was showing for Harry.

'HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you alright?' Hermione looked like she meant to continue talking, but then she noticed that Harry wasn't hugging her back.

She let go and took a step back, and was surprised to see that Harry's face was a mask of barely contained anger. She thought she saw a slight softening of his eyes for a moment, but it was gone so quickly she wasn't sure if it was wishful thinking.

Hermione had nearly knocked Harry over again when she pulled back. _Merlin but she's beautiful. Even more so than last year. Maybe I should just – no, it doesn't matter how pretty she is if I can't trust her. I have to find out why she'd abandon me all summer. _

Harry looked around the room, taking in Hedwig in a cage atop a chest of drawers, beside the window; the dark, foreboding décor; the open curtains showing the quiet, empty park opposite the house, before fixing his gaze on Hermione.

'So…couldn't be bothered to write?'

Harry took a little pleasure in the way Hermione's face seemed to collapse at that.

"Harry, we couldn't write. It wasn't safe" Hermione opined, her eyes pleading for Harry to believe her. She was terrified of the idea of her best friend hating her.

"It wasn't safe?" Harry scoffed.

"The Headmaster was worried the owls would be tracked. We were just trying to keep you safe, Harry."

"Do you really think Voldemort" Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's shudder "is going to waste his Death Eaters on chasing after post owls?" Hermione wasn't deterred.

"Harry, the Headmaster was the one who said it wasn't safe to write. He said the owls might be intercepted. Maybe Voldemort did it in the last war or something."

"Hermione, even if owl post wasn't safe, did it never occur to you to contact me in another way? You're a muggleborn, you know how to use a telephone! Or you could have put a stamp on a letter and sent it in the muggle post! Or do you think Voldemort's infiltrated the Post Office now?!"

Hermione was stunned. Why the bloody hell hadn't she thought of that? When the Headmaster had said it wasn't safe to write Harry, she'd been annoyed, and worried for her best friend, but had been so sure of Dumbledore's infallibility that she'd let herself be convinced. Now, she was starting to wonder.

Surprisingly, Ron got over his shock first, and broke his silence. He had thought Hermione would have the best chance of calming Harry, she had always been better at that, but it looked like he'd have to step in. _Hermy will be so grateful I rescued her yet again. One step closer to her being mine._

"Mate, really, Dumbledore told us not to write to-" Harry didn't deign to let him finish.

"And you followed his order, why exactly?"

"Because he's Dumbledore! He knows what he's on about!"

"I see…I'm going to find somewhere else to sleep, away from toadying little sycophants who care more about a Headmaster than their friend."

With that, Harry left the room; the sound of the door slamming closed behind him seemed to echo in the shocked silence he left in his wake.

It was a tense minute before that silence was breached.

"Hermione, what does 'sycophant' mean?"

Ron wasn't quite sure why Hermione suddenly burst into tears.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

While Harry searched through the rooms on the third floor, trying to find an empty bedroom he could use, the meeting in the kitchen was just breaking up. It had been an unusually brief one, as with Voldemort keeping quiet, there was little for them to do other than what they were already doing. After Snape had shared what little knowledge about Voldemort's plans and movements he'd been able to gather, and Dumbledore had told everyone to keep following their established orders, the meeting had quickly started to break up.

Sirius usually kept the things going a little longer, arguing about how they should be doing more, actively tracking known Death Eaters and trying to find Voldemort, which Dumbledore always shot down, insisting they didn't have the manpower for that, and that their efforts would be better spent trying to co-opt the various groups that the Dark Lord was trying to recruit to bolster his army, since most of his followers were still in Azkaban.

But tonight, Sirius was quiet, and the picture of perfect behaviour. Several Order members were giving him wary eyes, as he only tried to look innocent just before and after pulling a prank. But Sirius wasn't planning any mischief at this meeting, no matter how much he thought they could use a little levity. He just wanted the meeting over and done with so he could go spend some time with his godson.

As soon as Dumbledore declared the meeting over, Sirius was out of his chair and bounding towards the door. The rest of the Order was sure he'd done _something_ to be leaving with such speed, so quickly left via the floo or front door, not wanting to be caught in yet another prank, instead of hanging around to chat like they usually did after a meeting. They'd all gone- with the exception of the Weasley parents, who were staying in the Black home- by the time Sirius reached the second floor.

Molly and Arthur took their drinks into the sitting room, where they soon fell victim to the one prank Sirius _had_ played that day. A method to ensure The Banshee, as Molly was 'affectionately' known as, would leave him and Harry alone long enough for him to start corrupting the boy to a life of Marauderdom.

There was a rather strong sleeping potion in their tea.

The head of House Black was shocked when he opened the door to what was supposed to be his godson's room, only to find Hermione curled up on one of the beds crying her heart out, and Ron unconscious on the floor, a rapidly forming bruise under his left eye.

"Hermione, what happened?"

"Ha-Harry hates me!" the bushy-haired bookworm wailed.

Sirius gulped. He'd been sure Harry wouldn't take the lack of letters well, but he hadn't thought the Prongslet would blame Hermione. At least not to this extent. He knew how much his godson loved this girl, he had seen it in Harry's eyes when he looked at her. Sirius crossed the room, and took a seat beside Hermione, pulling the distraught girl into a hug.

"Shh. You know Harry doesn't hate you, you're his best friend." Hermione just cried harder into Sirius' shoulder at his attempt to comfort her. For his part, Sirius was regretting putting that sleeping potion in Molly's tea already. She would have been so much better at this. The only experience he had with crying girls was when he was at Hogwarts, taking advantage of stressed students' emotional states and talking them out of their knickers. He was quite certain that wasn't the way here. The thought of what Harry would do to him if he found out was terrifying.

It was a couple of minutes before she collected herself enough to reply, rambling and almost incoherent though it was.

"He-he hates me now! He's angry because we didn't write to him and it's all my fault for listening to Dumbledore and Harry was right and I thought I was going to go back to Hogwarts as his girlfriend but now he hates me–"

"Why's Ron like that, did Harry hit him?" Sirius had panicked at her outpouring and said the first thing that came to mind. He'd been staring at the gangly redhead's prone body over Hermione's shoulder.

"No, after Harry left, I started crying, then the bastard hugged me and tried to cop a feel so I punched him!"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Though Harry didn't know it, the room he had eventually chosen was the childhood bedroom of Sirius' brother, Regulus. He was curious about why this room was left empty, but he had been set up to share a room with Ron. He put up with the thunderstorm's snoring at Hogwarts, did these idiots really think he wanted to do the same in the summer?

By the time Sirius had gotten Hermione calmed down, and convinced her to try to talk to Harry, the boy in question had read three chapters of one of the Defense books he'd owl ordered in the summer- which he thought made a mockery of Hermione's 'argument' about owl post not being safe-, made notes about the spells he wanted to practise when he got back to Hogwarts, then gotten into bed and, with nothing else to occupy his thoughts, started thinking about his broken friendship with the girl he really fancied. Half an hour later, an emotionally exhausted Harry finally cried himself to sleep.

He was so exhausted, he didn't wake up when his door creaked open, and Hermione's head poked in, Sirius standing in the hallway behind her. Or when she came in and quietly closed the door behind her, after saying goodnight to Sirius. But he most definitely did when she slipped into his bed and snuggled up against him, resting her head on his chest, directly above his heart.


End file.
